4

Fawcett had lingered around the corner until the group of Elites and the blonde woman disappeared into the interrogation room. The instant the door closed, she dashed over to the medical bay. She found Spencer putting away equipment in a storage room and tackled him from behind. He crashed against the table in front of him.

“What the hell?”

“It’s true,” she exclaimed, hanging onto his back. “It’s a Confed assassin in there. He’s not just any old assassin, Spence. He’s a commander. And,” she took a second to catch her breath, “his wife is the one who brought him in!” 

Spencer cursed. “Damn, that’s harsh.”

Fawcett nodded, still latched onto his back. “Could you imagine being betrayed like that? I’m staying single forever. People are cold.”

“Hey,” he said, offended at her outlook on relationships, “not everyone’s that mean. Anyway, can you blame her? He’s a Confed commander.” Then again, Spencer couldn’t blame Fawcett for her outlook either. Her first real boyfriend had horribly betrayed her. He didn’t know all the details about what had happened, but from Fey’s breakdowns and from the little bit that she had told him he’d resolved that it was really bad. She trusted him and he’d tried to take advantage of her, beaten her, and worse. To this day, Fey still panicked if anyone tried to pin or cuff her.

Before that traumatic incident, her family had been brutally tortured and murdered in front of her by Confed assassins. Fey had it rough in the past, and now she was doing anything she could to break away from that pain and make sure it would never happen again.

“I know I shouldn’t, but I feel kind of bad for him. No one should be stabbed in the back like that.” Fawcett hopped off Spencer and picked some stray items off the tables. She tossed a bottle of pills back and forth between her palms.

“Always a bleeding heart,” Spencer commented, grinning at her. She threw the bottle at him. He ducked and laughed. Fawcett turned to leave the room.

“You’re not going back there, are you?”

“I want to know more,” she told him.

“Come on. Leave it alone. The Elite’s will take care of him.” Spencer shut the cabinets and stepped to her side.

“Spence, I have to.” Fawcett’s voice was pleading. Her eyes looked haunted by memories.

“What’s this really about, Fawcett?” His tone was serious as he put his hands gently on her shoulders. Fawcett’s mind flashed to her past.

She was eight years old, huddled under the bed in her bedroom. She heard screaming, crying, and gunshots. Her older brother, Jasyn ran into the room with a bat in his hand and shut the door behind him.

“Fee-fee?” he whispered, peering around the room. She poked a little hand out from underneath the bed. He sighed in relief and tried to crawl under with her but wouldn’t fit.

“No matter what happens, you don’t come out of there. Okay?”

Tears streamed down Fawcett’s face. She could see the fear in Jase’s eyes. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, Fee. I’ll protect you.” He went and stood by the entrance to the door and waited. “Don’t say a word. No matter what.”

There were a few moments of breathtaking silence and then the door crashed in. She held in a scream as Jase swung the bat, smacking one of the men in the chest and causing him to fall back.

“You son of a b***h!” the man stumbled back to his feet and went for Jase, who hit the guy in the face with the butt of the bat. The guy fell to the ground, howling and cradling his bleeding nose. “Petrov, get up here! The kid broke my nose.”

Another man came running up and Jase tried to attack him with the bat but before he could, the man on the floor grabbed his ankle and he stumbled, losing his balance. He fell to his knees and instantly threw himself at the man with the broken nose. They rolled on the ground, punching and kicking at each other. Jase grabbed at him as the man kicked her brother away and stood. His shirt tore in Jase’s hands. Before he could get up another man appeared from the staircase, his gun in his hand.

“Drop the bat, kid.”

Jase glared at him as he slowly placed the bat on the ground in front of him.

“Good. Now get on the ground and put your hands above your head.”

Jase complied, putting his cheek against the carpet. His face was angled towards the bed so that she could stare into his eyes. He mouthed two words to her. “Be still.”

The man with the bloody nose kicked Jase twice in the ribs. He grunted and coughed in pain. “We’re done with him. Execute this a*****e.”

She heard gunshots and bit back her screams. Jase was still staring at her but a trickle of blood now ran down his face. He wasn’t blinking. Fawcett wanted to call out to him but her voice was trapped in her throat.

“Is the house clear?” one of the men asked. He waved his gun around the room. The other one nodded, pulling off the torn shreds of his shirt. From where she lay, Fawcett could see a blood red tattoo on his back, just over his left shoulder blade. It had a dagger with a snake wrapped around it and three stars running down, alongside the blade part. On his right hip, a black tattoo was etched into his skin. It was a crest with a skull, bones, and a dagger.

“I think so,” the shirtless man said.

“Thinking so is not good enough,” his partner sneered. “Search it. No witnesses.”

The shirtless man left the room to search the house while the other one opened her closet door and ruffled through her clothes. “There’s a girl!” he called to his partner. “Her things are here.”

Fawcett’s heart sped up to a painful pace. She could feel her hands trembling by her sides.

The man in the room looked under her table, opened drawers, and kicked over her things. Finally, he got onto his knees and looked under the bed and smirked when he laid eyes on her. That was when she screamed.

Fawcett shook her head, bringer herself back to the present. She had to bite her lip till she bled to hold back the tears. “Fawcett? Are you listening to me?”

“Uh,” she looked over at Spencer who was staring down at her with an expression of concern on his face. “I’m okay. I just… I’m tired.”

“Let’s get you to your room, then.” Spencer put his arm gently on her back to steer her from the room. She stepped away from him.

“No,” she snapped. “Spence, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He stepped forward to grab her hand and this time she let him. “Come with me.”

Fawcett let Spencer lead her to the third floor where the apartments were constructed. He pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door, then pulled her in after him. Steering her to the couch, he made sure she was seated before disappearing into the joined kitchen area.

“Jerky?” Spencer called out to her, pulling sealed bags out from his pantry. He also grabbed two cans of pop from the fridge.

She made a noise that he interpreted as agreement and tossed the bags to her. She tore one open and ripped into the dried meat. He set the drinks down on the coffee table and sat down next to Fawcett.

“Talk to me,” he said softly.

“I don’t want…” she started but he pressed his hand against her mouth.

“Stop with the excuses, Fey. I know it’s hard and you have every right to want to keep your business private but at least tell me what it is that you want to get out of this. Why fixate on something you can’t control? You know they’re not going to let you into that interrogation room and even if you happened to get in there, what would you do? Save the guy? Talk to him? Kill him?” He took a deep breath and put his head in his hands.

“Please, Fey. Let this go for your own good. You’re here to serve and protect, right? Not to seek and destroy. I just… I don’t want to see you get yourself killed.” Spencer couldn’t even look at her.

Fawcett saw the pain in his features and heard his voice cracking. She moved close to him to lay her head on his shoulder and take his hand in hers. “I need to know why, Spence. Why me? Why us? My ma and da were good, fine people. We were like every other ordinary family out there. Da was an engineer and Ma was a teacher for god’s sake! Jasyn… He was just a kid. I was just a kid.” Tears ran down her cheeks. Spencer held her tightly.

“They wouldn’t want you to live like this, Fey. You need to move on. Sure, work for the Rebellion and help us eradicate these corrupt government scum but… don’t get yourself killed doing it. Your parent’s wouldn’t want that. Jasyn wouldn’t want that. They died so that you could live.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Fawcett cried. “I never wanted them to die for me. I never asked for any of this! They took my family away from me. They took my life!” The sobs made her chest ache.

“I know, honey. I know.” Spencer pulled her into his lap and stroked her hair. She pressed her face against his chest.

“I just… I just wanted to hear what he had to say, Spence. I wanted to see look into the eyes of someone that heartless understand how someone can be so cold and cruel. Mostly, I just want to know why. A commander can tell me that.”

“Then let me help you,” Spencer said. “You don’t have to do everything alone, Fey. I know you’re all independent and s**t but, jeez, you have to learn to accept some support. I’ll always have your back.”

“I know,” she murmured. “I’ll always have yours.”

Fawcett pecked him on the cheek and then wiped at her tears. Spencer sighed and then ripped at a piece of jerky. “Alright, Fey. What’s the plan?”

 

Fawcett found herself back in the receiving bay, down the hall from the interrogation room. She peeked around the corner to see the same guards still standing there, unmoving. In her pocket was Spencer’s cloaked listening device, one that was invisible if the user didn’t know where it was. She knew one of the guards from training exercises. He was a registered tester, a second stripe rebel who was authorized to run tests on the junior, single star recruits and suggest them for promotion to second stripe standing.

She searched through her brain to find his name. Frederick, Felix?

Spencer, who’d materialized behind her after checking out the surrounding area, leaned down and whispered in her ear. “His name is Farrow.”

That was it. Farrow. “Thanks,” she whispered back. Spencer nodded and went back to patrol the halls.

Fawcett unzipped the front of her uniform to show a significant amount of cleavage and ran her fingers through her hair. She stepped forward out of the hallway to the door.

“Hi, sir.” She flashed a seductive smile at the familiar guard.

“Move along,” the other goon said, unfazed by her tactics. If she cared, she would be offended.

“I just wanted a word with Rebel Farrow for a minute, if that would be okay. You were my tester,” she said, turning to face him directly. His green eyes flickered up to her face and some semblance of recognition sparked in them. He gave her a small grin. She let a dagger slip from her belt and clang onto the floor. “Shoot. It keeps doing that. I think my belt’s broken.” She bent down slowly; giving him a long look at her low zipped uniform. She noticed Farrow had his eyes focused on her chest as she stood.

“Could you, uh, help me out with this stupid thing?” She gestured at her belt. Farrow stepped forward to examine it but his partner stuck his hand out to keep him from moving.

“Stay by the door,” he snapped. “You, come here.” He gestured for her to step up towards them.

Fawcett complied, moving so close to Farrow that they were almost pressed up against each other. He rubbed a hand over his shaved head, starting down at her with anticipation. She could see his pupils dilate.

“My belt,” she breathed. He looked down at her, eyes flickering from her chest to her belt. He knelt to adjust it and she put one hand on his shoulder, right by his neck, letting her fingernails scrape lightly against his skin. Goosebumps rose on his flesh.

His fingers travelled along the belt, tightening straps and checking for any malfunctions. When he was finished, he stood with his hands lingering on her hips. “It looks like your dagger strap was a little loose, junior.” He was referring to her status as a junior member. At least he didn’t call her a runt.

“Thanks,” she smiled up at him, feigning absolute gratefulness. Her hands were still on his shoulder by his neck. The other one was slipped into her pocket, pulling the device out. She noticed the other guard watching them with a look of suspicion and distaste on his face from the corner of her eye. She lifted her other hand to Farrow’s neck and moved her lips only inches from his. He dipped his head to nuzzle her neck. She took the opportunity to stick the device to the wall behind him before he slipped his tongue into her mouth. After she was sure it was secure, she withdrew from Farrow.

“Thanks for the help,” she whispered and slowly walked away.

Putting it in her ear, she turned on the receiver for the device as she rounded the corner. It was the best that money could buy, or steal from the Confed, in her case. It should transmit through any surface.

“Holy s**t,” she heard Farrow’s low voice through the receiver. “What the hell just happened?”

The other guard scoffed under his breath. “Trainee w****s, looking to get a step up to a second stripe the only way they can.”

“Hey,” Farrow snapped in an offended tone. “Women run for me.”

“Sure they do. Away from you, not towards.”

            Fawcett jogged to the stairwell, up the stairs, and through the upstairs data rooms until she reached a janitorial closet that she knew wasn’t used frequently. She caught a glimpse of Spencer at one of the computers, pretending to do research. She ducked into it and shut the door behind her. A second later, it opened again and Spencer slipped inside. If they got caught they would just look like two frisky runt’s getting it on in the upstairs closet. Situating herself on top of an overturned bucket, Fawcett turned up the sensitivity on the transmitter to catch the sound in the room behind the guards. 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing tale. I like the honest and direct feel of the thoughts and the strong characters. You are following the writer's rule of "Who, why, where, when and how". This keeps the reader's interest alive. Thank you for sharing the amazing story.
Coyote